He quickly grasped the hand that held the pencil, and which was extended to him, and tried to make a passage through the crowd to the exit.  Pushed and pushing, he smiled and apologized for his inability to disengage his arms that were held by the crowd as if in a vise, in order to salute the friends he recognized.  At length he reached, giving vent to a grunt of satisfaction, the hall where visitors were sitting on divans, chatting, either less eager to view the pictures or satisfied in their desires.  There, Guy instinctively looked at a mirror and examined the knot of his cravat.  He did not notice that a gentleman with a closely buttoned frock-coat, on seeing him, quietly rose from the divan on which he had been sitting, and approached him, mechanically pulling the skirts of his coat meanwhile, so as to smooth the creases.

He simply touched Monsieur de Lissac’s shoulder with the tip of his finger.

Guy turned round, expecting to recognize a friend.

“You are surely Monsieur de Lissac?” said the man in the frock-coat, with the refined manners of a gentleman.

“Yes!” said Lissac, somewhat astonished at the coldness of his manner.

“Be good enough to accompany me, monsieur, I am a Commissioner of the Judiciary Delegations!”

Lissac thought he misunderstood him.

“I confess that I don’t quite understand you,” he began, with a rather significant smile.

“I am a Commissioner of Police,” the other replied, “and I am ordered to arrest you.”

He suddenly exposed his insignia like the end of a sash, and by a very polite gesture, with an amiable and engaging manner, pointed to the way out by the side of the archway of the hotel.

“I have two of my men yonder, monsieur, but you will not place me under the necessity of—­”

“What is this, monsieur?” said Lissac.  “I frankly confess that I understand nothing of this enigma.  I hope you will explain it to me.”

All this was said in a conversational tone, mezzo voce, and accompanied with smiles.  No one could have guessed what these two men were saying to each other.  Only, Guy was very pale and his somewhat haughty glance around him seemed to indicate that he was seeking some support or witness.

He uttered a slight exclamation of satisfaction on perceiving the journalist to whom he had just before spoken a few words before a little canvas by Meissonier.

“My dear Brevans,” he said in a loud voice, “here is an unpublished item for your journal.  This gentleman has laid his hand on my collar.”

With a sly look he indicated the Commissioner of Police, who did not budge.

“What! my dear fellow?”

“They have arrested me, that is all,” said Lissac.

“Monsieur,” the Commissioner quickly interrupted in a low voice, “no commotion, please.  For my sake—­and for yours.”

He lightly touched Lissac’s buttonhole with the end of his finger, as if to intimate that there was the explanation of his arrest, and Guy suddenly became very red and stamped his foot.